


Land of Ice and Snow

by fandomfairytales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Time Travel, and hermione punching her father-in-law in the face POA style, hermione loves him to the ends of the earth and back, i just wanted an excuse to write gratuitous comfort fluff, its five am I've had so much redbull I can hear colours, sad backstory becomes cute, watch me invent back story, with a touch of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:42:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21903922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales
Summary: It's a well-known fact Hermione Granger loves her husband more than anything. When a Christmas miracle provides an opportunity to right a few wrongs in his past, she finds herself faced with numerous difficult choices and a young Draco Malfoy fast approaching a moment that if he survives, will change the entire course of his life for the better.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: Strictly Dramione Christmas Fest 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay. here we go...
> 
> 1\. I am so so sorry this is late and unfinished at the moment, I tried so hard to get this up on time hell, it was a struggle just to get words on the page, honest to god, it felt like pulling teeth getting my muse to give me something I could work with, then life stepped in with work and truly kicked my ass and of course, Christmas preparations totally screwed me over last minute 
> 
> 2\. I will have the last two chapters up tomorrow, I am not leaving this unfinished but as of right now it is almost 5 am and I've already fallen asleep on my keyboard once (there may also be some minor edits to this short prologue-y chapter)
> 
> again I absolutely apologise, I absolutely hated the thought of not submitting something so please accept my last minute ramblings that I swear to fix up asap.

oOo

If there was one thing Draco Malfoy was exceptionally good at, it was being a whinger.

One of the last remnants of his childhood personality that Hermione could tolerate, rare as it was, he suffered an uncontrollable outburst, fortunately, it was also one of his more amusing traits after so many years together. 

It wasn’t like she was completely oblivious to the fact that her newly minted husband would have a flaw or two considering his past and how he was raised (of she was honest she was hardly one to point fingers, she had a boatload of her own that he somehow overlooked or found endearing) . Most he’d managed to kick, the most nefarious discarded well before they crossed paths again after seventh year, although, falling in love had been much like sandpaper for his jagged edges, the last few walls coming down until she saw the man underneath it all, the one she easily and readily gave her heart to. 

He was also her catalyst; in many ways, they were two sides of the same coin equal and reversed. However, her flaws were not the current focus…

When it came to griping, half the time Hermione was surprised he didn’t follow up his complaining with a threat to tell his father. 

Now, what’s a loving wife to do with a constant voice in her ear, nagging about various inconveniences or situations he could solve or find his way out of with a ‘simple’ creative solution?

Easy… create a checklist. 

First was as simple as asking nicely, perhaps with a cherry on top and a seductive pout. 

Which was the perfect lead into number two…

Sex. Naturally, where there was a will there was a pleasurable way of helping Draco reach an acceptable compromise. An orgasm or two was always beneficial to both of them in such situations, always leaving them breathless and much more agreeable with all those lovely hormones floating about making them giddy and lust drunk. 

Three was baking; the only other solution on par with sex, her Draco was a sucker for anything sweet (according to him it was also part of the reason sex was so effective because ‘she would never fail to be his favourite dessert’).  
Four; a classic in its own right, tricking him into doing what she wanted by accident, a very straightforward technique that usually backfired due to her inability to lie effectively. 

Finally, all else failing 

Number five, the guilt trip. 

Now, this particular workaround might sound rudimentary, but of all her other techniques, it remained the hardest to execute. 

There was a very fine line between guilting and taking the matter too far. Stubborn as each other, if he had his mind set on one thing it was all too easy to upset herself attempting to persuade him. 

Using guilt often led to either a frustrating argument or a potentially heartbreaking admission; which was exactly how she ended up in her predicament on Christmas eve no less. 

It was like a sixth sense the moment snow began to fall the previous year and naturally, she was overjoyed, her husband, not so much. After trying for most of the day to get him into warmer clothes, suitable for ice skating and snowball fights, then wrestling him out of them again when he distracted her with a rather interesting romp between the sheets that involved an ugly Christmas sweater, ribbons from a gift she hadn’t wrapped yet and peppermint chocolate… She still ended up stuck inside trying to make a point about all the wintery fun to be had if he were a little less obstinate; until eventually, he snapped. 

“You can’t force me to go outside, Hermione!”

She had to admit, his outburst hurt a little. 

“I know that, but seriously, this is ridiculous; either you give me a good reason, or you put something on willingly, otherwise I swear I will toss you out into the snow without a jumper, or pants for that matter…”

“Much as I am aware of the fact you would do that; I’m really not interested in either of those options and I don’t particularly feel like explaining myself.”

“Why don’t you want to? What makes it such an issue, is it that you don’t want to have fun with me?”

“No! it’s not that… I just”

“What? Am I being too childish, too immature?”

“IT’S NOT YOU! Merlin, I didn’t want to ruin today like this.”

If there was one definitive way to douse the fire burning away in her gut, pushing her into arguing further, it was the wistful, empty, sorrow painted across his features. It was a look she knew all too well, some past trauma or other rearing its ugly head once again. it was a look that made her drop everything, the situation never mattered; seeing him like that switched every caring instinct she had into overdrive, knowing how much hurt was behind that look. 

“You can tell me. I won't judge; I’d be a pretty terrible wife if I didn’t listen.” 

Getting him seated and settling in his lap, her hands slipped into his hair, caressing just the way he liked to reassure him until he sighed and began. 

“I was about six or seven and I snuck out of the house after it snowed. I remember being so excited about it; Madsy, my nanny caught me out of bed and I convinced her to let me go outside to skate on the lake near the manor, I guess she felt sorry for me; you know what my childhood was like, I never really got to have fun for myself. Anyway, I didn’t know about the grindylow, either father wasn’t aware it was there or he failed to mention it to me… Either way, It pulled me through the ice, I guess it wanted to eat me, but Madsy managed to get me out, she called for my father and he just took one look at his half-frozen son, turned around and left. I don’t know if he didn’t care enough to help, or… I’m not sure who revived me, most likely it was my mother but I don’t really remember enough to be certain, at least when I got sick afterwards, she spent every second by my side, it was the worst Christmas, I was stuck in bed with a terrible fever; father refused to speak to me, just upped my tutoring once I’ recovered enough and went about his day as though I hadn’t almost died there.”

“Oh.” 

Hermione didn’t cry often, but the implication of the formerly unheard-of near-death experience was overwhelmingly upsetting. Most things to do with his father were… but on this occasion, she barely needed any information to set her righteous fury ablaze. 

She found herself wishing, harder than she had ever wished for anything to go back in time and take a pound of flesh from Lucius Fucking Malfoy.

oOo


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, here I am with more of the fic that won't write itself but continues to grow exponentially. 
> 
> *laughs maniacally*
> 
> I am determined to finish it though and I already have it estimated up around 7000 words (and counting) so there'll be some 'body' (hehe) once it's done.

oOo

The middle of the night brought a stillness Hermione often revelled in. Her dreams usually jolting her awake, with images of the war still flickering across her eyelids with every blink that followed. This time was different, the dark was peaceful, yes, but there was no panic accompanying it.

Most times she curled into Draco’s side still slick with sweat and panting with fear, wrapping her arms around his middle until the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and breathing lulled her back to sleep. 

She knew that would be little help tonight. 

She could feel the ready tug of her magic. What exactly it was pulling her toward she was unsure, but it left her uneasy and restless. Something was coming, something she could neither anticipate or prevent. 

Her magic was never wrong. She squeezed her eyes shut tight as possible, a last-ditch effort to force herself back to sleep, but the clock down the hall began to chime, its ring echoing down the hall with a more otherworldly tone than usual, piquing her interest and spiking anticipation once again. 

She held her breath and her eyes slowly fluttered open; It was beautiful and terrifying all at once, glowing tendrils bathed the room in eerie shades of gold and rich cobalt blue; there was little to do but wonder why it had chosen her to grace with its presence on Christmas eve no less. It certainly wasn’t as though things like this were a common occurrence in the wizarding world. 

On the last chime, a voice whispered gently

“You have your wish, use it well.”

A moment later and her vision turned blacker than black, not a sliver of moonlight creeping through the blinds or under the door; nothing that her eyes could adjust to… 

Her heart hammered an unsteady tattoo in her chest, instincts screaming that something was terribly wrong as she felt herself freefall into complete and utter nothingness.

oOo

Christmas day dawned with nature’s infuriating announcers twittering from the bare tree branches. The chilly morning air hardly a deterrent for the most determined of birds.

Draco had always been a reluctant waker; the holidays only served to make him worse. Often annoyed by his wife’s ‘early bird catches the worm and the early wizard gets his breakfast served hot’ mentality.

Grumbling his displeasure as he searched the no man’s land separating him from said beloved spouse, he quickly found himself falling out the opposite side, his bare skin hitting the cold floorboards a rather shocking awakening. 

Where on earth was Hermione? 

Pushing himself up and grabbing the first thing he could find, he accidentally attempted to put on his wife’s garish red ‘H’ sweater. Half stuck and trying not to let himself feel irrationally panicked (over both the confined space and her absence) he extricated himself carefully, not wanting to stretch it and immediately found his own sweater, courtesy of Molly, thrown carelessly over a lamp. 

Ah yes, that had been a fun way to end the Weasley Christmas party…

Casting a quick locomotor spell to quickly make the bed and put things back in their proper place, he resisted the urge to whistle ‘A Spoonful Of Sugar’; ever since Hermione showed him the film, he was convinced Mary was based on an actual witch, that scene, in particular, was all the evidence he needed. 

The instant their room was presentable, he was off in search of his wife. (Merlin above, she still had no idea how much he adored calling her that). 

First port of call was the library; with the holidays well underway, he knew to expect many restless nights courtesy of her PTSD, (an acronym he had learned after they decided seeking out a therapist might do the both of them some good; they often made a night of it, playing childish games and drinking themselves to oblivion afterwards). Thus he knew when all hope of sleep deserted her, she could be found with her feet up on the antique chaise, nose buried firmly in the crinkled pages of a book from their joint collection (and how the Malfoy library had grown after she took up residence!).

He opened the door carefully, peeking around… Empty. 

He wrinkled his nose, a light frown settling in; something just didn’t feel right.

After checking the kitchen, the parlour, the attic, the dining room and the ballroom he began to worry in earnest. Not a single elf about knew her whereabouts, there was no note, her handbag hung in its usual place by the door, mocking him. It wasn’t until he’d been all over the grounds of the manor and checked the wards (undisturbed of course) that panic well and truly set in. 

Hermione was missing. 

Floo calls to the Potters and the many branches of the Weasleys proved fruitless, his parents hadn’t seen anything from the cottage, Astoria and Goyle hadn’t heard from her, neither had Daphne and Dudley. Which left him praying the Zabini-Notts had an idea as to Hermione’s whereabouts. 

With a quick courtesy call to the household, he apparated into Blaise and Theo’s foyer, feeling the nausea of apparition more keenly than usual, tinged with overwhelming worry. 

They greeted each other in ugly Christmas sweaters (snakes in Santa hats with their initials front and centre) and matching green, silver and grey plaid pyjama pants (themed gifts from Hermione last year- they’d planned a mass inter-house Christmas sleepover- aka drinking far too much eggnog and firewhiskey until they passed out). 

Draco wasted no time questioning them.

“Did she come here at all? For any reason?”

“No, why would she? It’s Christmas day Drake and we all know she’d never be that unprepared.”

“I know-” he sighed deeply, forcing himself to breathe “-But I had to ask, you know how she gets when she’s trying to surprise me, need I remind you of the potions lab incident?-” 

His friends snickered while Draco could only cringe. It hadn’t been his fault that Blaise and Theo were ‘scarred for life’ when Hermione presented him with a new, perfectly furnished potions lab adjoining the second library for his birthday… All those surfaces that hadn’t been christened yet, it was only inevitable he would want to start on it right away; at least he could comfort his pride with the fact she had been so distracted by his enthusiasm their guests' presence slipped her mind until he began unbuttoning her shirt. 

“-I needed to be sure you’re not keeping anything from me for her sake…”

“We would never, mate, not when you’re like this. Don’t stress, she’ll turn up.”

“Blaise, while I appreciate the optimism, you two are my last port of call.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, Oh. Have you checked your wards?”

“Theo did, right after you rang; nothing.”

“Okay, and none of the staff saw or heard from her?” 

“Nope, after she sent her gifts through last night, nada.”

Draco ran his hands through his hair, mussing it further until it stood on end, a shock of platinum sticking out in all directions. 

“Have you tried a tracking spell yet?”

He paused, hands still buried in his hair, he looked up at Theo feeling more than a little sheepish. 

“No, I hadn’t thought of it.”

“Well then, we’ll come back to the manor with you, if that doesn’t work, we can figure out our next move.”

Reaching out for his friends to apparate them to the manor, Draco tried his best not to question why Theo thought the tracking spell might not work.

oOo


End file.
